


Tra xx

by bmoni (stylinourry)



Series: Profound Bond (DeanCas) [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, Coda, M/M, Mixtape feelings!, POV Castiel, Post-Episode: s12e19 The Future, Reminiscing, spn 12x19, spn 12x19 coda, spn s12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 13:46:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10765458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stylinourry/pseuds/bmoni
Summary: “Why is it spelled like this?”“That—that, uh, that says ‘tracks’, as in‘soundtracks’…”Castiel turns the object over.“I can’t wait to listen to this mixtape.”"Y-yeah, me too."





	Tra xx

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a short 12x19 coda I wrote a little while after watching the ep (ugh, these Destiel mixtape feelings). Honestly, this got away from me, and Dean and Cas wrote themselves! ~sigh~

_It’s a gift. You keep those._

Castiel turns onto his side, bunching up the motel pillow beneath his head, and he sighs, trails of painful affection spreading through his body as he remembers.

 

 

* * *

 

 

2013

 

“Hey, Cas – what’re you up to?”

 

“Hello, Dean. I’m reading a book on quantum mechanics.”

 

Dean makes a face. “Ugh. That one’s a brick. I mean, I’m no Hawking…more of a Calc guy, but c’mon, there’s no way electrons can just—” Dean mimics a whooshing noise, his hand gesturing upwards, “—bounce to the moon and back at the _same_ time. M’not saying it isn’t real—hell, we got thrown into an alternate universe freak show—just that my head can’t grasp the complexity of it.”

 

“Well, it’s interesting. Angels are the same. De Broglie stated that electrons—”

 

“—Can behave as waves, yeah, I get it – oh shit, _multiple wavelength of celestial intent_!” Dean cackles, throwing his head back. His eyes crinkle, the smattering of freckles across his nose and cheekbones glowing under the bunker lamps.

 

Castiel’s lips quirk.

 

“Jesus, that explains the teleporting,” Dean mutters after calming down, patting the front of his stomach. He takes a seat beside Castiel, and his body radiates warmth.

 

Castiel keeps himself from touching him.

 

“Listen, man, I got somethin’ for you.”

 

“What is it?”

 

Dean’s looking at Castiel, hazel-green transfixed on his face, and he seems to rip his eyes away with great difficulty.

 

Castiel pretends not to notice the red shading Dean’s cheeks.

 

Dean shifts in his seat, fingers reaching into his pockets, and he retrieves a small tape. He holds it out to Castiel, avoiding his gaze.

 

“It’s a mixtape. I figured, y’know, you could make do with some good ol’ Led Zepp, not that musical opera crap you always listen to in your room.”

 

Castiel raises his eyebrows.

 

“…Musical opera ‘ _crap_ ’?”

 

Watching Dean backtrack is endearing to Castiel, Dean’s head shaking stiffly, and he dangles the tape in front of Castiel’s face, jaw working.

 

“Sorry, Cas, not crap, I meant like—just take the damn thing,” Dean finally pleads, voice low, and also surprisingly intimate.

 

Castiel feels electricity intertwining their fingers as they brush, charging the air, and he takes the tape from him.

 

_Dean’s Top 13 Zepp Tra xx_

 

“Thank you, Dean. I appreciate it,” Castiel murmurs, a genuine, gentle lilt to his tone that Dean takes note of, because Dean finally lifts his gaze to meet his own.

 

At once, Castiel is overwhelmed by a raging storm of emotion—intensity, determination, _passion_ —flickering behind Dean’s vivid green eyes, and supreme longing plucks Castiel’s heartstrings.

 

Nervous, he moves the conversation forward.

“Why is it spelled like this?”

 

“That—that, uh, that says ‘tracks’, as in ‘ _soundtracks_ ’…”

“Ah.”

 

Castiel turns the object over, letting a shy, close-mouthed smile decorate his face.

 

“I can’t wait to listen to this mixtape.”

 

Their voices are whispers, quiet and affectionate and _meaningful_.

 

Castiel holds his breath.

 

Dean moves closer.

 

“Y-yeah, me too.”

 

The distinct sound of a throat being cleared cracks the tension between them like a gunshot, and Dean’s body swivels around on instinct, the library chair wobbling.

 

Sam is observing Dean and Castiel, Leo Tolstoy’s _War and Peace_ in his hands.

 

Castiel waves.

 

“Hello, Sam.”

 

“Oh, hey, Cas, I was gonna ask you about your assumptions on Tolstoy, but you guys looked busy—”

 

“We’re not—”

 

“ _Sammy_ —”

 

Castiel glances at Dean, placing the mixtape in the breast pocket of his trench coat; Dean’s eyes attentively follow the action, and then they flick back to Castiel’s lips.

 

Longing tugs at his heart again, an invisible hand, fisting his coat and urging him to stay.

 

Castiel swallows, resolutely ignoring Dean’s stare.

 

“You can speak to Sam now, Dean. De Broglie was a quantum pioneer,” Castiel says, voice returning even.

 

Nodding once, Castiel walks back to his room.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“ _What the hell, Sam_?! How long were you freakin’ _standing_ there—”

 

“Whoa, okay, fine, a while!”

 

“Thought I told you to go grab the—”

 

“So wait…you – you gave Cas a _mixtape_?! Of your _favourite Led Zeppelin songs_?! That’s the cheesiest fucking 90s—”

 

“Shut the fuck up!”

 

“—romantic shit _ever_!”

 

“Sammy, I _swear_ —”

 

“Jeez, I’m just saying, it’s typical Dean Winchester: telling Cas your feelings with _classic rock_ —”

 

“Dude, Cas doesn’t even _know_ about mixtape romancing, okay? So keep your fucking mouth shut—”

 

“Actually, I was waiting for you to give him one. And Cas would go: _why thank you, Dean, I love you t_ —AH!”

 

Castiel hears a _scuffle, thud, yelp._

“Shit, _ow_! You’re such a dick!”

 

“Well, that’s what you get for fucking _spying_ on me, you stupid little bro!”

 

“ _Dean_! Come back here! DEAN!”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Castiel opens his eyes.

 

He wipes his tears away.

 

Sitting up, Castiel gauges his surroundings.

 

Kelly is still asleep, draped across the second twin bed in a bundle of wool.

 

Could Dean ever forgive him for this?

 


End file.
